


Insensate

by Alethia



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: Brad POV, Canon Era, Explicit Sexual Content, Hand Jobs, M/M, Mutual Masturbation, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Surprise Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-08-06
Updated: 2008-08-06
Packaged: 2018-06-07 13:09:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6806125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alethia/pseuds/Alethia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was just a thing they did sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Insensate

**Author's Note:**

> This story is based on the fictionalized characters in the HBO miniseries, _Generation Kill_ , as written by Ed Burns and David Simon and as portrayed by Alexander Skarsgard, Stark Sands, and others. It is a work of fiction, ergo it never happened. 
> 
> Set before the back half of Part 3, "Screwby." Originally posted [here](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/306371.html).

It was just a thing they did sometimes. 

Only out in the field, away from everyone else. It wasn't a big deal. It certainly didn't make them limp-wristed pussies who had miniature dropkick dogs and wore too tight pants. It was—

It didn't matter what it was. Almost-dying made you horny. Everyone dealt with it as he did.

Brad was just fine with his hand. Usually. For the most part. And then there came some days...

Brad nipped underneath Nate's jaw, scraped his teeth along what he supposed counted as Nate's five o'clock shadow—it was five o'clock somewhere in the world—and shook himself out of his thoughts. He didn't speed his strokes, perfectly content to keep up the semi-torturous pace that had Nate clenching said jaw and just _itching_ to reach down and finish himself off, Brad could tell. 

He didn't though. Didn't move at all but for his small shivers and his not-so-small hand furiously jacking off Brad like that was about to get Brad moving faster.

Yeah, that'd happen. 

Brad nipped at the clenched jaw again and wondered when Nate would crack.

Nate startled slightly, then turned his head and hissed, " _fuck,_ Brad," right into Brad's mouth.

And then _licked into_ Brad's mouth and this time Brad started because fuck, they hadn't done _that_ before. His hand must have tightened because Nate grunted, little puff of air that hit the roof of Brad's mouth, and then Nate's hand squeezed and _fuck_.

By the time he pushed back the fog of lust far enough to think, his tongue was exploring Nate's and he'd gotten his other hand on Nate's neck to hold him where he wanted him. They were each jerking the other off, but now they were kissing, too, and that was a little more gay than before...and then Nate twisted his hand around the head of Brad's cock and holy fucking God, why was he still thinking?

He made an unidentifiable sound into Nate's mouth—

Only Nate seemed to think he knew what that meant because his mouth softened and he sucked on Brad's tongue, suggestive. Brad still held his head immobile, not that that seemed to make a fuck lot of difference what with the way Nate was laying claim to Brad's tongue and _Christ_ , it made Brad want to push him up against the nearest hard surface, peel those clothes off, and suck patterns into his skin. 

_That_ was a little more than a little gay...which meant next to fucking nothing when Nate was sucking on his tongue and working his cock all slow and dirty.

Brad grunted. He pulled his tongue away, bit Nate's lip, and jerked him faster. Nate reciprocated and Jesus _Christ_ , there were white spots in Brad's vision and they'd both lost what little brainpower the Corp hadn't beaten out of them but how could he care about that bullshit when every part of him throbbed in time to Nate's hand twisting patterns into his dick? 

Nate lost it first, a thrilling little telltale shake that Brad could practically taste. That he _wanted_ to taste and it dimly occurred to him that he was all kinds of fucked. 

Apparently Nate hadn't gone completely ass-up retarded because he angled his body just as he thrust one last ragged time and then went completely still; his cock pulsed wildly in Brad's fist.

Brad pulled back from Nate's mouth to watch, but then Nate's hand gripped him hard and started jerking him rough like he liked. Brad sucked in a breath and wildly realized he _had_ gone retarded because he was coming like _that_. Those white spots in his vision burst into goddamn novas that obliterated everything but the pleasure racing down his spine and the feel of Nate's tongue lapping at his bottom lip.

Brad slumped back against the shell of a truck, then kinda slid to the ground. Nate was just a second behind him; his breath came out a fucked-out whoosh when every muscle relaxed at once.

And then it was that brilliant, blissful silence that drowned out everything: distant bombing, Nate's breathing, even Brad's own mind.

Oh, yeah. That was why they did this.

Brad lolled his head back against the metal hulk and catalogued awareness as it came back inch by inch. Smell first, then sight. Reason came back much too soon, had him turning over the kissing in his mind. Handjobs he could do, but kissing...that had a few too many connotations of homo romantic bullshit that Brad no longer believed in, if he ever really had.

He sighed and angled his head just slightly to look at Nate.

Nate whose lips were puffy and who looked smaller now that he was almost curled in the dirt. 

Brad resisted the urge to roll over and straddle him—easy to do, he was _right there_ —lick back into that mouth and start all over again. It was one thing to want to get off, but this was something else and just—not fucking _on_.

"Think you jerked my brains out," Brad muttered, low. Because he'd obviously _lost his damned mind_.

Nate breathed out a laugh, a little wild, a lot satisfied. His eyes were soft and relaxed for once and Brad looked away before he got too used to that look.

"I think I just figured you out." 

"I am but a simple man, no mystery here," Brad intoned.

Nate watched him, unblinking. "You set up boundaries that you won't go past, but once you do you want to prove you're in charge again."

Brad blinked a couple times as that statement worked its way through his sluggish brain. "That's some mental-masturbation, pussy liberal bullshit."

Nate smiled at him, sly. "Not exactly mental."

And this was _weird_ because it wasn't like they discussed this shit or anything. It just _happened_. It was common enough and it wasn't like they had a lot of options and no one _ever_ talked about it. Brad knew enough to make sure he didn't know anything at all.

He stayed away from his team, the other team leaders...really, everyone. The officers weren't even a question. None of them was fucking worth the trouble, frankly. And yet. Whenever Nate wandered by he found himself following like a kicked fucking puppy. 

Nate, who _really_ didn't have a lot of options. The LTs in Alpha and Charlie, he supposed, but even that was—

There was no one that wasn't dangerous for him. But he still sought out Brad, his point man and favored team leader. Brad knew him well enough to recognize it wasn't a power thing and it wasn't a control thing...so why take the risk? It didn't seem worth it.

Only on some level it did because he wasn't exactly turning Nate down, was he? 

Brad cleared his throat, then pulled his shit back together. Couldn't be gone too long or the boys would wonder. And Person wasn't the type to keep quiet about any of his ponderings. Or anything at all, really. 

Besides, what was he doing fucking _lingering_ like a self-esteem-starved pussy bitch who wanted to cuddle? Fucking _pathetic_.

Nate pulled his own clothes together—efficient as always. He turned to Brad like he wanted to say something, a fucking bizarre expression on his face. Brad quickly saluted and swaggered off, total shut-down.

He toyed with the idea of ducking Nate the next time he came around. Then he mentally rolled his eyes. Yeah, right. That'd happen.

***

Fin. Feedback is adored.


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